


Pieta

by BabylonSabby



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Ancestors, Angst, Biblestuck, Blood, Death, Did I Mention There Was Angst?, Dolorosa - Freeform, Gen, Gore, Homestuck - Freeform, aaaaannnngggst, and how he died for alternia's sins, angst angst angst, disciple - Freeform, i felt like writing an ancestor drabble, i have many a dolorosa feeling and a psiioniic feeling. i really like them., psiioniic - Freeform, signless - Freeform, troll jegus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-28 22:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6348583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BabylonSabby/pseuds/BabylonSabby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who's love for the Signless is greater? The Dolorosa will fight anyone if they says it's not hers. Especially now when she's about to lose him forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieta

She picked him up and gingerly held him in her robed arms, the elegant drapery flowing over her form like a nearly emerald waterfall. She was called the Dolorosa and the child she cradled in her embrace was, as of today, her son. He had an air of destiny that made her catch her breath. Nothing screamed blood like his blood color. Nothing said mortality, doom, and fragile, fleeting life like the color of his body. And this was saying something, something about him. Something about what he was to represent.

Trolls were a species that was very hard to kill.

And perhaps that is why she brought him as close to her breast as she did.

This was mutant blood. And she knew by looking at it that it was far from typical, perhaps even far from strong. Perhaps this child was the most fragile and doomed child of them all. Perhaps he could break with a twitch, she thought. Oh, but he was important. She knew he was. It wasn’t war he needed to wage, anyway. It was love.

So she cradled him and cooed into his ear. Nurturing him with her voice and her affection. It was pity. Pity not for a moirail…but for an infant. She’d broken a rule. A standard. A law. And she was completely oblivious to the door it opened, to the road that lay ahead.

 

She was right. She had never been so right.

And as much as she loved him, as much as she loved everything he stood for, she regretted it. She hated it. She hated being right. She hated that he had to be the one; the one to die in those chains and those shackles, that bright red blood oozing out of his marred, ashen flesh.

He was a man now. Who would have thought such an innocent boy from years ago would have grown up into this? And behold…death was upon him.

He was weeping and she was shaking her head. She couldn’t look at anything but him. Not at the Disciple, his mate, who was being dragged away. And not at the Psiioniic, who was minutes away from meeting his own bleak fate.

She cared not for her own.

Only that her baby boy was wounded, weeping, and trying to cry loudly to the crowd through a weakened, cracked voice.

“I’ve come all this way,” he said, his head rolling back between his shoulders. “I’ve come all this way and spoken so many words…And you destroy me. You destroy me!”

Was now really the time to be angry? He knew this was coming. They all knew this was coming. They all knew they were doomed. That the cause was doomed.

He continued weeping, his voice bellowing through the eons like a tidal wave. The Dolorosa could feel it pulse through her and knew that even in her own, dying moments, it would still be a part of her. That it would be a part of everyone from now on. This fury was immortal. This fury was alive.

“But you know what the fucked up part is?” her beautiful son continued. “I forgive you…I forgive you…”

Please look at me, the Dolorosa pleaded silently. Please look at me!

And he did. He looked at all of them through dimming eyes. He saw his beloved carried away. He saw his moirail staring balefully in confusion. And then he saw his mother. His poor, tormented, beautiful mother.

All hearts broke, he could feel them.

He could feel the despair of the Disciple. The crumble of the Psiioniic’s innocence. And piercing through his chest like the arrows protruding from his body, he could feel the dying spirit of the Dolorosa. With his death, she died, too. Inwardly. There wasn’t going to be anymore of her left after this. Poor, poor mother. He didn’t want to do this to her. He didn’t want to do it to anyone. He loved them all more than anything else in the world. 

And now he had to sacrifice them all. Sacrifice his life and his family for this…this cause. This movement. Was it worth it? Was it really worth it? For something to selfless?

“I just hope one day you forgive me,” he said at last, finally shuddering as he gave into oblivion. There was a futile whimper as he struggled for a moment more to hold on…and then his head drooped forward, eventually hanging still.

And that was it. He was gone.

With him went the Dolorosa’s heart, her everything. Her spirit, her sense of self. She could see the same thing happening in the Psiioniic’s torrid eyes. He was child like. He had no life until the mutant Signless had given him one.

She could hear the screams of the Disciple. They were like her own screams quietly wailing out of her body. She had never known love like the love her son taught her. He took something rudimentary, red love, and made it fruitful. Made it whole. Made it available for every heart that had ever craved it. What would become of this love now that he was gone? What would become of his teachings? What would the people do with it now that he had given it to them?

It was the end of the world. The end of life. The end of their travels. The end…of their story. And like many who met the same fate, the future was unknown. The only thing to do was to live in the here and now until they, too, encountered death.

And that’s just what the Dolorosa did. Even as she was sold onto Mindfang’s ship, baring her neck to her fangs, and her breasts to her finger tips, she kept on living. She kept on waiting. Waiting to finally extinguish. What was a fire when it had no one to keep warm? It was time to die. It was time to wait. The Unknown was all that lay ahead.


End file.
